by Moira Young
The Pathfinder, I says. What’s Resurrection?
His lair, she says. Back in New Eden.
I ain’t headed that way, I says.
I’d truss you up an hand you in myself fer a reward like that, she says. But whores ain’t allowed in New Eden now. It’s all temperance, duty an no fun at all. That’s right, ain’t it, Meg? No place fer the likes of us.
Saba! Lugh strides towards me. You shouldn’t oughta be talkin to . . . to these.
Meg whistles. Fans herself with her hand.
Lilith narrows her eyes. It ain’t talkin I wanna do with you, honey boy, she says.
Lugh flushes. He ain’t never seen such females in his life before. He’s tryin not to look at ’em but he cain’t help it.
A taste of ripe fruit, that’s what you need, says Lilith. Why doncha let Auntie Lil show you what it’s all about? One hour. No charge. Pure pleasure. She’s reachin out. She runs a finger up the inside of his thigh.
Don’t touch me! Lugh twists away, kickin her hand. So wild an sudden that she goes flyin offa her stool into all their stuff. Pots an tins an a lookin glass crash to the ground. Nero flaps an screeches.
Lugh storms off, tearin hisself free when Tommo grabs at his sleeve. He starts to follow an Lugh shoves him away.
Lemme be, gawdammit! he yells. You ain’t my family, Tommo! Back off!
He heads towards the river at a run. Tommo stands there a moment. Shocked. Cracked. Then he turns on his heel an walks fast th’other way. A kinda jagged lurch, huggin his hurt close.
Tommo! Em rushes after him.
Without thinkin, my feet start to go after Lugh. But they’re heavy. Slow. Like I’m wadin through sand. Auriel stops me with a hand on my arm. Lugh needs me, I says.
You got nuthin left to spare, she says.
I got nuthin to spare. I repeat her words dully, stupidly.
That’s right, she says.
I’m sorry, I says to Lilith. My brother’s—
Meg’s helpin her to her feet. Lilith shakes her head. Oh, I’m fine, honey, she says. But that brother of yers sure ain’t. I’d keep a close eye on him if I was you.
Please, lady, will you come? A man’s appeared beside Auriel, pluckin at her sleeve. Small an wiry, his face carved hollow by hard cares. It’s my woman, he says.
If she’s sick, says Auriel, it’s the health committee you need to—
Not sickness, he says. It’s . . . her mind ain’t right. Please, lady, she might take notice of you.
He presses his hands together, holds ’em out to Auriel. Beggin fer help.
Take me to her, she says.
We follow as he hurries between the row of tents, talkin all the while. They took our oldest girl, see, our Nell, he says. She’s only jest ten. When they run us offa our place an give it to the Stewards, they took Nell away in the prison cart. They took her with ’em.
Ten year old. Emmi’s age.
The Tonton, says Auriel.
Ruth blames me, he says. Says I should of fought. But one man got no chance aginst so many, an I ain’t no good to nobody dead. After that, she couldn’t sleep fer worryin about Nell an she wouldn’t let our little one, our Rosie, move from her side.
Jest as we reach his junk shanty, there’s a wild scream from inside. The man ducks through the door. Auriel’s right behind him. I tell Tracker to stay. As I go in, outta the corner of my eye, I catch a rush of darkness. Hear a shiver of laughter. Cold sweat breaks on my skin.
Go away, I says.
Inside, it’s only jest high enough fer me to stand upright. It’s dim. No light but what slants through the door. Aginst the far wall, a woman sits in a chair. She cradles the little girl, Rosie, on her lap. Clutches her close to her chest. She rocks back an forth, keenin. It’s a raw, animal, unbearable sound. Three other women hover, anxious, around her.
The fever took her two days since, says the man, but Ruth won’t give her up to be burnt. The fever, lady. It ain’t safe, it ain’t right the dead should be among the livin.
Auriel takes off her eyeshield an goes to Ruth. Her cool voice ripples an murmurs, ripples an murmurs. Ruth shakes her head, clutchin her dead child even closer. No, no, no, no, no, she moans. The women an Auriel try to loosen her grip. Another wild scream.
The man looks at me, helpless. Would you try? he says.
Me, I says.
Please, he says.
My feet take me over to Ruth. I kneel beside her as she rocks back an forth. I says nuthin fer a bit, then, My sister’s called Emmi, I says. She’s ten, jest like yer Nell. I used to think she was useless. Too young to stand up an be counted. Turns out she’s a real fighter. I never thought she would be, but she is. She’s a survivor. I bet Nell’s jest the same.
She don’t look at me, she keeps her face buried in Rosie’s hair, but I can tell she’s listenin. That’s how I know what she’s doin right now, I says. Becuz it’s what Emmi’d be doin. She’ll be watchin an thinkin an . . . plannin how to git away. How to git back to you. An she won’t ever give up till she does. So don’t you give up neether. You owe it to her. An yer man. It’s the livin that need us, not the dead. They’re past all that.
Rosie’s only wearin a short, thin shift. I take my tunic off, lay it over top of the child.
Here, I says, you want her decent.
My body’s heavy. My head’s empty. I’m spent.
I’m sorry fer yer loss, I says.
As me an Auriel start to go, the man’s face changes. He rushes over to his wife, to Ruth. She’s opened her arms. As she begins to weep, as he gathers up his dead child fer the pyre, we leave.
We step outside. The sun so bright. The colours dazzle my eyes. The trees, the water, the sky. The noise. Too much.
Dogs bark. People chat. Cookfires smoke an crackle. Down at the river they’re washin clothes. The pound pound of the washrocks. Children play and chase. The thunder of runnin feet. The bubble of cookpots. The yip of a dog. A sniff. A cough. A sigh.
The shadows of the dead creep out from between the shelters. They gather at the edges of who I am.
Let us in, they sigh. They crowd me. Press me. They’re closin around me. Let us in, let us in, let us in, they chant.
I cain’t keep ’em out no more.
Tracker whines.
Saba? says Auriel. Saba, are y’okay?
She’s holdin my arm, lookin at me. But all I see is myself. Me. Reflected in the dark of her eyeshield. Another Saba. In the darkness. Lookin out at me.
Jest then, a child shrieks. I turn. Slowly, slowly I turn.
A girl teeters atop a loaded wagon. Her playmates stand below. They egg her on to jump. They shout, they promise to catch her. She shouts back. Showin off. Excited to be with other kids.
It’s Emmi, says Auriel. That’s way too high. Emmi! she shouts. Stay there! She starts to run towards ’em.
Suddenly Emmi spots me. Hey, Saba! she yells. Look at me!
Suddenly Epona spots me at the edge of the trees. The world slams to a stop. There ain’t nuthin an nobody else. Jest Epona an me an the sound of my heart.
Beat, beat, beat.
An it all happens slowly. So slow, I can see the blink of her eyelids. I can see her lips move as she takes in a breath.
Emmi beams. She calls. She waves.
Tears blur my sight. I wipe ’em away. I lift my bow. I take aim. Epona smiles. She nods. She starts to run towards me. She throws her arms wide open an lifts up her face. She leaps offa the roof. She soars through the air. Fer one last moment, she’s free.
She flings her arms wide. She leaps.
My hands shake so bad that I cain’t shoot. I don’t shoot her.
Epona falls. Right into the arms of the Tonton below.
Hands reach out. They grab her. Hit her. Pull her down. Bodies surge, closin over her. She disappears.
Hands reach out. They grab at her. Pull her down. Bodies surge, closin over her. She disappears.
No, I says. Then I scream it, NO! An I start to run.
Then I’m there. Grabbin the Tonton by their arms. Throwin ’em off Epona. Then I got her, I saved her, she’s here, she ain’t dead, she’s okay. An I’m pullin her into my arms.
I got you, I says, I got you, Epona, it’s okay, everythin’s gonna be okay. Git away! I yell. Don’t touch her! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
I hold her to me. Rock us back an forth. Epona’s weepin.
Shhh, I says. It’s okay. I saved you, I saved you, I didn’t kill you.
Saba, she sobs. Saba, what’s wrong with you?
Epona. Epona . . . no . . . Emmi. Emmi’s voice. Emmi, I . . . I’m holdin Emmi. Her face twisted with fear, streaked with tears.
We was playin Saba an the Tonton, she whispers. I was bein you.
Slowly, my arms loosen around her. She scrambles to her feet. I raise my head. People all around. Shocked faces. Eyes starin at me. The kids Emmi was playin with. Kids, not Tonton. A couple of ’em cryin. One’s nursin his arm, cries out when somebody tries to see what’s wrong. Did I do that? Lilith. Meg. Tommo. Lugh, with Emmi clingin to him, her face buried in his side. Auriel. Tracker. Everybody lookin at me.
Nero flutters down to land beside me. Auriel comes over. She holds out her hand. I take it an she helps me to my feet. She takes off her eyeshield an looks at me. The shaman with the wolfdog eyes.
I can banish the dead, she says. Prepare you fer what lies ahead.
I’m ready, I says.
Auriel puts up the vision lodge. It’s a special tent that her grandfather used fer many years, set atop a firepit that she gits Lugh an Tommo to dig.
She burns sage leaves an sprinkles herb water to purify the lodge. She lights a fire in the pit. It burns down till the rocks piled in the centre glow red-hot. She brews a cactus tea. She puts two water-filled buckets with dippers next to the fire. An one empty basin. She ties seed rattles around her wrists an ankles. Brings her shaman’s drum.
Lugh was fixed on bein nearby, in case I need him. He insisted. He argued. But what happens inside the vision lodge ain’t fer nobody to know but me an Auriel. They ain’t to listen or come in or interrupt, no matter what. So I says farewell to everybody. Him an Tommo an Emmi. Tracker an Nero too.
An it feels strange. Serious, somehow, an sad. Like when a person dies. Or when somebody’s startin off on a long journey an you don’t know if you’ll ever see ’em agin. I hug Lugh last of all.
You don’t hafta do this, he says.
Yes I do, I says.
As the sun goes down, we start.
Me an Auriel crawl inside the tent. The air’s stuffy. Close. Already too warm. It’s only jest big enough fer two to sit cross-legged. She scatters dried clover on the hot stones. Wisps of sweet-smellin smoke fill the air. She lets the thick tent flap down. The world’s closed out. We’re closed in. Now it’s only her an me an the truth of what lies within. I cain’t dodge it no more. Cain’t hide. Whatever it is, I’m gonna know it. Look it in the eye. Like Pa told me.
Don’t give in to fear, Saba. Be strong, like I know you are. An never give up. Never.
It’s dark in the tent. Blackness. Eyes open or closed, it’s the same. I cain’t see a thing. I can only hear.
The dip of the ladle. Water splashin onto hot rock. The angry hiss of steam. Then heat. Fierce waves of heat that tighten around me. Choke me. Right away, I’m sweat wet. Despite I ain’t got nuthin on but skivvies.
Auriel starts to chant. To sing. No words I ever heard before. Deep in her throat, then high an keenin, like the wind. She beats the skinbox. Her wrist rattles shimmer the air. The sounds ring in my head, my body.
More steam. My nose, ears, mouth, lungs, filled with steam an heat. Sweat drips offa me. No room to stand. Nowhere to move to. Trapped. In the heat an the sound an the darkness, I’m trapped. My heart flutters like a frightened bird.
But I won’t run. I won’t.
Auriel holds a dipper of water to my lips. I gasp it down. She spills another over my head. Presses a small cup into my hands. Drink, she says. All of it. Then lie down.
I hesitate. But only fer a moment. I tip my head back an drain it in one. The taste of bark on my tongue. It’s like drinkin a tree. Earth. Water. Air. I lay myself on the ground.
Open yerself to the plant, she says. Don’t fight it. Let it take you where it will, teach you what it must, give you what you need.
She chants. She beats a rhythm. The rattles make a noise like crickets. Hunnerds of crickets. Sound an heat an steam fill the tent. Move into me, through me, on an on. Till the edges of me start to blur. Till I lose all sense of time.
The light is around you, says Auriel. Let go, it’s safe to let go.
I slide into the heat an the plant an the sounds. I leave my body, so heavy, so earthbound. An oh . . . the pain’s too much. The hurt an the loss, the wrongness, the fear, the sadness. Too . . . too much to bear. Not jest me. All of us. Livin an dead an yet to be born. The darkest depths beckon me down. Somebody whimpers. It’s me.
Her voice in my ears, in my head. Auriel whispers, In pain lies wisdom. Feel it. Let it take you. I promise it won’t destroy you.
It closes over me. Fills my lungs. The black water of pain. Inside me. Outside. Beside me, beyond an around me. I cry pain out. I breathe it in. Over an over an over. My mother, my father, my sister, my brother. Helen an Tommo an Ike. People I know. People I don’t.
I weep fer the livin. I weep fer the dead. I weep fer the yet to be born. An Epona. I weep fer Epona. Fer life so brief. Over so soon.
Yer friend, says Auriel. Her death was quick an proud. Yer hands on yer bow were merciful. Now she asks that you set her free. That you set yerself free. Let the dead go. Let all of the dead go.
My legs start to tremble. My arms jerk an dance. I’m feverish hot. Freezin cold. Thin sourness leaps to my throat.
Auriel shoves the basin unner my mouth. I’m sick. Violently, suddenly sick.
She gives me water to drink.
From this moment, the Angel of Death is dead, she says.
She lays me down, the stars roll back an I’m in a still, grey place. A wide, flat plain at the edge of the world. It’s the landscape of my dream.
There’s a darkenin sky. The wind blows hard. The old man stands by the twisted tree.
Auriel’s voice. In my head. Ask the pain what it wants of you, she says.
He holds a bow in his hands. It’s white, like the twisted tree. Pale, silvery white.
To hold my bow in my hands agin, says I.
He holds it out. He offers it to me.
Will you take it? says Auriel.
I take it.
The bow was his, she says. My grandfather, Namid, the Star Dancer. The warrior who became a shaman. Now it belongs to you.
I feel its smoothness. Heft its weight. It’s sweet. It’s true. I swing the bow up. Fit a arrow to the string. It cleaves to me. Like it’s part of me. My hands stay steady an sure. No shakes. No trembles.
It’s one piece of wood, she says. The heartwood of the ancient whiteoak. It won’t ever break.
Then the shaman’s gone. I stand alone at the edge of the world. An I hold the white bow in my hands. I aim at the tree, now covered with leaf, green an fresh. The silver bark of its trunk an branches, rough with life.
I shoot.
The tree splits straight down the middle. There’s a flash of lightnin. A rush of wind. Then the rumble, the thunder of hoofs.
The tree’s gone. A body’s there. Lyin there on the ground. On its back. Not movin. My arrow stuck in its heart.
I’m beside it. Kneelin down. My hand reachin out. To the dark red, blood red shawl that covers the face. I draw i
t aside.
It’s Lugh. He’s dead. My arrow stuck in his heart.
I draw the shawl aside. It’s Jack. Dead. My arrow stuck in his heart.
Then it’s me.
Then DeMalo.
He opens his eyes.
He smiles.
He sees me, I says. He knows me.
All right, she says, it’s okay, I couldn’t quite – I need you to think about him agin. Picture him. Don’t block it.
Tall. Black robes. Metal body armour, breastplate an armbands. Long dark hair tied back. A watchful face. Strong, with broad cheekbones. Eyes so dark they’re almost black.
Ah, she breathes. Tell me his name.
DeMalo, I says.
What does he see? she says. What does he know?
The shadows, says I. Inside me.
We need to look into them, she says. See what’s there. Are you ready?
Yes, I says.
Don’t be afeared, she says. I’m with you, Saba.
I’m crossin a lake in the mountains. In a bark canoe. I’m paddlin. Nero’s huddled, a ragged shadow perched on the prow of the boat. He stares straight ahead.
My pilot. My watchman. My crow.
It’s blackest night. It’s bitterest cold. Above me, the hard stars stab. Like chips of ice.
The water parts as my boat glides through. My paddle dips an drags. It dips. An drags.
I don’t look over the side. I don’t even dare to glance. If I did look, if I dared to, night or no, I’d see ’em. I’d look down down down to the bottom. To the ancient bed of the lake. Where the dark things crouch. Where the old things wait. Where they crouch an wait . . . fer me.
Look down, says Auriel.
Saba! Saba! It’s Lugh’s voice.
Stay there, Saba. Stay with it, we’re nearly there. Auriel’s voice is calm.
Saba! Hey, Saba! Come quick!
Lugh. Callin. Lugh. Needs me.
Saba! he calls.
Lugh, I says.
Don’t move, Auriel whispers.
A rustle. The shush of her rattles. Cool air slides in. It cuts through the heat. I shiver. She’s gone outside.
I begin to rise from the dark deepness. Start to come up from the deep darkness. My self gathers itself.